


The Face of Absurdity

by Hammocker



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Fantasy, Gen, References to Drug Use, References to Homophobia, Supernatural Elements, Surreal, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Few things are more jarring than having one's most prized possession stolen by a small mammal before being led into a land of twisted logic and ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Face of Absurdity

**Author's Note:**

> Now here's one of the odder ideas I've had recently. I honestly have no idea if I'll be able to do too much more with it myself. Just getting this small part done was not easy, and the writing process had very little structure, if any at all. It's not as polished as I would like it to be if I ever finish it.
> 
> I realize that Alice's Adventures in Wonderland isn't really a proper fairy tale, but I thought that it would be interesting to have a Witcher style take on it. Considering Geralt's outlook on various things, I figured that attempting to write his responses to various nonsensical situations would be a good bit of fun. Unfortunately, Geralt has a tendency to be fickle, and not behave as he should when I'm trying to write for him, so it can be a pain at times. I hope this is at least an enjoyable read.
> 
> I might mention that this piece is loosely connected to my other Witcher fanfic, involving the developing romance of Dandelion and Geralt, but I've already spoken enough.
> 
> Thoughts and criticism are always appreciated. I cannot improve if I'm not told what is considered good and what is considered bad.

Long days are common in a witcher's profession. Monsters are practically everywhere in the world, and seem to increase in number every day, giving witchers a hard time wherever they happen to nest. Whether a witcher is being stunned and having blood taken by a bruxa, getting dragged through water by a pack of drowned dead, or having a kikimore warrior jump out from the woods, fangs at the ready, the many factors that ware down the patience and energy of the increasingly rare mutant monster hunter only seem to multiply by the day.

 

Geralt of Rivia just so happened to be coming off from a particularly long day on this particular evening. He had been given an extremely ill-mannered awakening before the sun had even risen up in the horizon. His medallion had started quaking around his neck only just before a ghoul had pounced upon him. Nothing he could not handle with an Aard sign and his silver sword, but, of course, the ghoul just so happened to attack after the time of night at which Geralt could safely continue to sleep, but also before the sun could rise up to drive away all of the night-dwelling monsters. From there, he had set out for the next village on the out-of-the-way path that he decided to follow in his Winter journey to the southern countries. Not surprisingly, the locals turned out to be a little less than welcoming towards witchers. Worse still is that they had heard enough about his life, likely through the ballad that Dandelion had finally managed to finish, to fling personal insults his way. Geralt could take petty insults about himself with no problems, but absolutely no one calls his lover a “whore” or a “fag” if they intend to keep all of their limbs attached to their torso. In the end, he had ended up fleeing the settlement in a hurried fashion.

 

Now, on the same route he had been traveling, with his feet beginning the ache, the trees on the side of the road call out to him. The in betweens of their increasingly twisted roots look like a good enough place to sit, even for just a little while. It could not possibly hurt to sit for a moment. Rest his eyes for a couple of minutes. Temptation finally overcomes him, and he sits in between a particularly comfortable looking cluster of roots, resting his back on the trunk behind him. Geralt fights the urge to close his eyes for what might have been hours before succumbing to the need to keep them closed.

 

“Fi-finally, a decent watch.”

 

Geralt's eyes snap open at the sound of speaking near him. He glances around, looking for the owner of the voice that he had heard. Instinctively, he reaches a hand up to feel for subtle vibrations on his medallion. When nothing but empty air is felt, Geralt grasps at where it should have been once again. Still nothing is present. In a panic, Geralt sits up hastily, and feels around in the twisted roots for the carved piece of silver. After minutes of searching, he looks around in all directions, scanning the forest floor. It takes him a while, but eventually, Geralt realizes that a lean, pale, and all too familiar white primate holds his medallion in its hands. The monkey's fur pigment reminds him of his own bleach white hair. Almost silver, but more whitish-gray than anything. More bizarre than that however, is the fact that the undersized simian wears a bright red waistcoat, and an elegant hat, tailored to be the perfect size and shape for a nimble humanoid. Either thought only enters his mind briefly. His medallion is a priority even more important than questioning why a monkey is wearing clothing.

“Give that here. Now.” Geralt demands, his voice low and dangerous. Curious, that he should be speaking to an animal in such a manner, but he has experienced situations more ridiculous than this.

 

The primate turns its head to look at Geralt with its beady, expressionless eyes. It clicks its teeth together before replying, “Oh, thank you for the watch, good sir. I will return it when I no longer have use for it, I swear.”

 

“If you don't want to end up skewered in a short moment, put the medallion down.” Geralt now reaches for the steel sword, and moves to stand up.

 

The monkey's teeth clack once more before the creature pockets his medallion. It then gets down onto all four legs, and begins to scamper off down the road. Geralt jumps to his feet and runs after the creature. If the beast is using the pathway, it should be easy enough to catch up to. Yet for how rapidly he is been running, the small mammal seems to be no more in reach of his sword than before. In fact, the simian almost seems to be getting more distant from the witcher. Before Geralt can consider how a monkey can be so quick, the creature takes a sharp turn, and disappears from view.

 

Geralt mutters a curse, and slows down slightly to make the turn himself. How odd that a fork in the road had not been marked on the map of this area. Though perhaps it is not so surprising, considering how feral this peculiar bit of woods seems to be. Beyond the turn in the road, the land slants up into the shape of a substantial drop-off. A tunnel is carved through the rock, just large enough for a person to fit through. No light filters out of the tunnel at all, and no torches or even torch sconces dot the walls. Not a problem for Geralt as all witchers are perfectly able to see in the dark, but the total lack of any light sources comes off as bizarre. Most humans cannot see in the dark without aid so why would there be no lamps or torches? Still, Geralt continues on into the cave, concerned only for regaining his most critical possession.

 

Descending into the darkness is more of process than a singular action. Geralt's eyes quickly adjust to his ink-black surroundings, but his feet are what tell him that he has begun moving downwards. The slant on the path can be felt, but no change in altitude can be detected by sight. Shaking his head, Geralt assumes that his vision must be playing tricks, and tries to grow accustomed to the sense of descent.

 

Before long, Geralt realizes another odd occurrence within the tunnel. A variety of arcane-looking patterns scratched crudely on the walls. No words at all to accompany them, only images with no clear meaning. The majority of the images are made fully up of soft, curving lines. Some appear to be cut off half way. A few are made up of fine lines, but most are thick and defined. Still others seem to have been obscured by being scratched over. The only explanation for these drawings that Geralt can think of would be graffiti artists, but it seems strange that they would go to the trouble of coming so far down the tunnel just to make some scratchings with chalk.

 

Motion flickers in the corner of Geralt's eyes as he looks at the scrapings on the walls. As he shifts back to catch whatever the source is, he just barely catches the glimpse of a slender human figure before it disappears into the fog. Fog? How can fog form inside of a cave? And how did a person slip by him? He had seen no one else enter the tunnel. No point in questioning, he supposes. Best to pursue whatever poor bastard had wandered into the pitch darkness of this cave, and at least see if they need any sort of help. 

 

At the same time as he spots the figure, Geralt notices that the tunnel is gradually becoming more and more cramped around him. He is even beginning to duck down slightly to avoid scraping his head against the wall. From that observation, mixed with the unmapped location, and the lack of light, Geralt's suspicions are confirmed: There is absolutely no way this tunnel was made by humans. At least, not normal humans. Still, many pieces of this puzzle are missing. Who dug out this tunnel? It certainly was not the tiny simian from earlier. How can a tunnel like this go so unnoticed? The lack of torch sconces indicates that no one had even attempted to properly explore the passage. How does one build a tunnel through what looks to be solid rock? Unless one has made themselves an army of golems, or knows extremely powerful and destructice magic, Geralt doubts that such a thing is even possible Most of all, why would one build a tunnel in such an impractical way? None of it added up to give him any sort of logical conclusion.

 

Perhaps logic should go out the window when there is a completely mundane, if slightly undersized wooden door at the end of the tunnel. Now, Geralt is not one to go around a forest, and eat the various fungi that he finds. There has never been a time where he was so ravenous that a wild mushroom looked desirable. He avoids fisstech, as he finds the effects of the powder to be extremely unpleasant. The first time he had given fisstech a try, it had knocked him out cold, and not once had he touched it since. The only sort of intoxicant that Geralt actively seeks out would be the many variations of alcoholic beverages because of the mind-numbing hum they provide for his head, and the oddly pleasant burning it creates within his throat. Even then, it is not as though he allows himself to become dehydrated off of the booze he drinks. Hell, he has a harder time getting properly inebriated because of his abnormally fast metabolism. If there is anything that Geralt should not be doing, it would be hallucinating.

 

Cautiously, Geralt stretches out a hand to touch the door's knob. Cold, but unmistakably solid brass. Who would build something like this into solid stone? How could someone build this into solid stone? A typical wooden door simply is not structurally sound in an environment like this. It just makes absolutely no sense. Geralt considers that he could be dreaming for a moment, but generally, if he dreams at all, he is very much in control of his actions and what happens around himself. Apparently, such a phenomena is called lucid dreaming by the intellectual sorts interested in such things. No, more than likely, this is either a bad trip or a bad joke. Either way, Geralt supposes that he best open the door sooner rather than later, no matter what might be on the other side. Whether it be something as equally strange as this door, or as dangerous as a kikimore queen, Geralt would be able to handle himself just as easily as he always had.


End file.
